Page 45 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
He shrugged. “It was a way to make sure the family didn’t see the servants.”
“So it’s not where the snobs pass through.” She made a dismissive noise. “I can’t understand how anyone would be so proud to not want to acknowledge the hard work of others.”
He swallowed offence. She couldn’t understand that, perhaps, because she’d never experienced social class divide.
They passed through the tunnel, which led to an old cedar tree, said to be three hundred years old. She bent to read the tattered sign, warning people not to place coins in the tree’s trunk.
She glanced up at him. “People still do that?”
He shrugged. “It’s an old superstition. It’s meant to bring good luck. It damages the tree instead.”
“Bad luck for the tree, huh?”
She rubbed the tree’s greying trunk. A survivor, though pockmarked by years of weather. A bit like him, in some ways.
He gestured for her to walk past the icehouse—which of course meant she had to inspect the aged tunnel, where great blocks of ice had been stored before the days of refrigeration—then towards the water lily pool. When the water was still, like it was now, from certain angles the house could be reflected in the pond. An ingenious piece of garden design, that.
“Oh, that’s so clever.” She took another photo. “Seriously, this garden is amazing. You’re so lucky to work here.”
Her words seeded hope, a reminder that he was blessed to be surrounded by beauty. Yes, the work was relentless and never ending, and he often went to sleep with aching limbs, but it was a beautiful environment. His ancestors had certainly planned ahead when they’d designed this garden centuries ago.
“Honestly, it’s like a dream.” She touched the petals of a lacecap hydrangea and then peeked over her shoulder at him. “Can you imagine being so fortunate as to live here?” She laughed. “I guess that’s a silly question, seeing as you do.”
He stopped. She knew that?
She chuckled. “I don’t mean this is your house, but you work here so much it must feel like it is.”
Was this when he should admit the truth? Own who he was? He opened his mouth—
“I know this will make me sound just like my mother, but I think a woman would be prepared to put up with quite a lot to live on this beautiful estate.”
All thought of owning his identity fled, her words confirming that she was just like the others. Women who only wanted him for his house, his supposed wealth, his title. Women who had never actually wanted him. Who had never bothered to get to know him. Who never actually loved him.
He cleared his throat to remove a large lump. “It’s getting late. You should go home.”
“You’re right. Tomorrow will be a big day.” She curtsied. “Thank you, kind sir, for your lovely garden tour.”
He nodded, then looked away, sensing her disappointment when he didn’t rise to meet her playfulness. But he couldn’t pretend her words didn’t sting. Not when her words showed he still had a long way to go to find a woman he could trust.
Instead, she’d proved she’d need to firmly stay as only a workplace acquaintance. Not even a friend.
Chapter 10
Nerves rippled through Liv as she stood before the crowd. Here, on the front steps of the Hall, it seemed bizarre to think that only a couple of weeks ago she’d been wondering what to do with her life, and now she stood as a major general summoning people to a call to arms. Which might be a little extreme but wasn’t too far-fetched from how she felt right now.
Tobias’ call for volunteers at church had sent a ripple of excitement through the congregation, and she now stood before a bunch of people, young and old, longtime locals and incomers, and a few stickybeak tourists, or so she’d heard Marge mutter.
She didn’t mind. Gran was in charge of the stewards, most of whom were thrilled at the chance to help the Hall reopen. Marge had a small crew of pub staff and a local cleaning company. Tobias stood with Liam and a motley group of volunteers, all decked out with hats and sunscreen. Liam, she noticed, hadn’t looked at her once since yesterday’s garden tour. Which was strange, as she’d thought she’d finally begin to make headway with the man. She wasn’t asking to become best friends, but cordiality would be nice. At the moment it felt more like he wished her in Siberia.
George grinned encouragingly at her. Oh well. At least his sister’s sunny personality made up for it.
Liv nodded, pushed back her shoulders, and smiled. “Hello, everyone! For those who don’t know me, my name is Olivia Bennett, and I’ve been tasked with helping see Hartbury Hall reopen, something I’m sure we’d all like to see, am I right?”
There was a muted cheer. The English, she’d noted, didn’t tend to get overly excited about things. Unless it came to supporting their soccer—oops!football—teams. Or their cricket. Or gloating anytime England beat Australia in any sporting venture ever.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming out today. I know your team leaders will have specific instructions for you to follow, so I shan’t say much more than thank you, and that there will be sausage sandwiches for those helpers who are still here at one. So have fun helping Hartbury Hall and her gardens look beautiful again!”
Another slightly louder cheer was led by George, Marge, and Tobias. She noticed Liam tug his hat down and look at the ground. Weird. You’d think he’d be happy to have all the helpers, thankful that his job would be made easier, but he was acting like he was going to the dentist. At least CeeCee wasn’t here to make life difficult.
